Hope for the Heart
by Silent Serenade
Summary: Mamoru, a young man studying to be a doctor specialising in cardiothoracics, never had a need to see beyond the physical properties of the human heart--that is, until Usagi shows him the endless possibilities. A Christmas and New Year story.
1. Part 1

**Hope for the Heart  
**

Hi everyone, I hope you've all had a wonderful Christmas! I know this is a bit late, but here's a Christmas/New Year story for you. The second part will be uploaded on New Year's Eve (trust me, the timing will be a lot more appropriate). If you're looking to read a story that is 'purely' about Christmas, you might want to read _The Gift of Giving_, a story I have previously published here. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and have a great holiday!

For Angel.

* * *

Chiba Mamoru couldn't recall the last time his heart had skipped like it just did. Not when he found out about his inheritance, not when he was accepted to study medicine at Keio University, not even when he caught Usagi looking in his direction last week with a dreamy smile on her face (though it had come close). What was more, Mamoru found his heart beating faster, in a kind of prolonged cry for his attention, and he was helpless to do anything but take in the scene before him.

And it was completely unexpected, completely unforeseen. He had been on his way home from university after gathering the last pieces of reference material he needed to complete an assignment that was due two days later, deep in thought about how to avoid celebrating the upcoming holiday. To Mamoru, Christmas had never been anything special. It was just a normal winter's day: shops open, school on, businesses trying to maximise their profits. Although masses of people around him greeted each other with "Merry Christmas", the day was nothing more than a reason to receive presents for the young, and an excuse to eat cake for the elderly. Most of the Japanese were completely oblivious to what Christmas actually stood for, nor did they question the existence of the foreign tradition.

Absorbed in his own jaded thoughts, Mamoru frowned and felt a wave of pity for what appeared to be a homeless man in the street, clutching a teddy bear wearing a Santa's hat, trying to make conversation with passer-bys who ignored him. Mamoru stood watching him from a distance, determined not to approach the man, when a whirl of light and colour caught his attention.

He knew her from the way she moved, and narrowed his eyes when he saw the girl stop in her tracks and approach the beggar. Somehow he felt uncomfortable and vulnerable at the sight of her standing so close to the man, and he was busy berating himself for the unfounded feelings when the man caught sight of Usagi and moved towards her. All thoughts of reason dissipated, replaced with the first tastes of fear.

Even from the distance, Mamoru could hear the man's slurred words. "Pretty lady, isn't she beautiful?" The beggar extended his arms and gestured for Usagi to take the teddy bear.

Mamoru thought he saw something flash in her eyes, and was about to venture forth and rescue her from the situation when she gingerly took the bear, smiling tenderly as she stroked the toy's dirty fur.

"Yes, she's beautiful," Usagi said in a voice that Mamoru had never heard before, one that sent tingles down his spine. "Where did you get her?"

"The Salvation Army," the man replied, grinning from ear to ear. He gestured at the old clothes he was wearing. "They also gave me this."

If Usagi had not yet realised he was homeless, Mamoru thought, then that statement would have shattered whatever illusions she had about the man. He looked for the surprise in her expression and a change of countenance, but there was none – only a growing smile and the same soft voice that made his heart throb.

"That's really great, mister. I'm glad you've been taking such good care of her."

Usagi gave the teddy bear back, and he received it with gusto, holding it tightly to his chest. "Of course I have. She's my friend!" He paused, then looked at the blonde. "Can you be my friend?"

There was no hesitation in Usagi's reply. "Sure we can! And as friends, I think we should give each other a giant hug!" She stretched out her arms and waited for the few moments it took for the man to comprehend her words. When he reached her and held the girl tighter than Mamoru thought was permissible, Usagi did not flinch or pause, only returned the embrace, unconcerned about the dirty hands that clutched her white sweater. When she withdrew from the hug, the gentle, understanding smile on Usagi's face had not wavered. Mamoru could not fathom this expression Usagi held—she was serenity, beauty, grace; an unfaltering star among the sea of ignorance that failed to drown her.

Watching the scene before him, Mamoru felt as if he was yet another addition to the faceless crowd that surrounded the two, and as his heart skipped, he felt the acute difference between their worlds. He was lost, ungrounded, knowing that he had found something beautiful and precious, something he could never attain.

And it was in that moment of estrangement that Mamoru saw Usagi for what she was: a kaleidoscope of warmth and love, the colours of which were only fleeting until now. Even so, he could not fully comprehend her, could not fully understand his reaction; but Mamoru ignored his systematic and analytical nature, and allowed himself to simply focus on what was laid out before him.

"Pretty lady, I was wondering..." The man had resumed his former awkward state, and was now averting Usagi's gaze, fidgeting with the Santa's hat on his teddy. "You see, pretty lady, she's hungry and thirsty, and she... but you're such a pretty lady!"

Mamoru had doubts of the sincerity with which the man had presented himself, but Usagi had not seen the shifting eyes, the clenching hands—or perhaps she chose to ignore them—and nodded in understanding.

"I'm a bit short myself," she replied, digging through her bag to find her wallet, "but let's see what we can do." The man lifted his head and eyed her pink wallet, which Usagi had turned upside down, emptying all her coins. "It's 550 yen, but it's all I have... Here you go!"

He extended a hand, staring at the money that she carelessly dropped into his palm. The speechlessness was broken when he grinned and said, "Thank you, pretty lady! I can buy her a cake now, thank you!"

As she waved off the beggar's bowing and words of gratitude and they both started to say their goodbyes, Mamoru took a small step forward, knowing that he had little time to live as a witness to this scene. His unwillingness to intrude was weighed down by a desperate need to let Usagi know of these foreign and fluttering feelings, but he did not see a way to achieve the latter without making a fool of himself. The intensity of the moment wearing off, Mamoru took another step and was aware of the concrete beneath him, a sensation that shoved him back into the world of clacking stilettos and insincere, high-pitched greetings—a world that valued logic and practicality over inexplicable whimsies. Whatever admiration and longing he felt had to be pocketed away and meticulously dissected before he could take any action, and now was not the time nor place to do such a thing.

Seeing Usagi take her final bow, say "Merry Christmas!" and walk away, Mamoru nodded to himself and turned to make his own way home, not giving a second glance to the man who had started addressing other strangers in his indistinct manner. The magic had faded to a lingering whisper, the clutches had loosened around his heart; all that remained was the uncertain feeling that he had walked in the wrong direction.

* * *

Mamoru woke up the next morning, acutely aware that it was the 24th of December. He had spent the previous night working on the finishing touches of his report based on the clinical experiences he had received during the past few weeks, and he had planned to print and drop it off at university later that afternoon. He remembered the response of his peers when they discovered the major assignment was due on Christmas Day, and absently wondered about the number of people who had become too caught up in festivities and were now struggling to complete it. Feeling content with his accomplishment, Mamoru allowed himself to spend a few extra minutes in bed, but quickly found the exercise to be tedious and a waste of time, and promptly got up to make himself breakfast.

Now that his mind had no immediate preoccupations, Mamoru found his thoughts drifting to the incident that he witnessed the day before. He had never seen Usagi act in such a manner before—graceful, giving, almost elegant. He knew that she was a caring and warm person, but her affection had always been expressed with loud shrieks and laughter, not quiet words and soft touches. The more he dwelled on it, the more confused and irrational his thoughts became, and the reasons behind his reaction darted further out of reach. Was it because she had chosen to approach the man Mamoru himself had chosen to ignore? Was it because she had uttered the seasonal greeting that still made him question her motives? Was it because he had seen a rare and wonderful part of her and realised she would never address him in the same manner?

Seeing his thoughts tending towards an unwelcomed direction, Mamoru hastily cleared his plate and pocketed his keys. He entered the elevator without quite knowing where he was going, and before he left the apartment complex, Mamoru unthinkingly checked his letterbox, expecting to peer into emptiness.

Mamoru frowned when he discovered a small package for him, and he pulled it out, wondering if it had been delivered to the wrong person. Out in the light, he deciphered his name, written in clumsy hiragana, on an envelope that was attached to the parcel wrapped in red and green. He pulled out the card from the envelope and read the contents, his expression softening as his eyes scanned the slanted handwriting.

"Dear Mamoru-san,

Although we haven't had much of a chance to really get to know each other, I hope you'll like your present! Have a wonderful Christmas!

Love,

Usagi"

Ignoring the sudden shortness of breath he seemed to be experiencing, Mamoru opened the package, making sure not to rip the wrapping paper, and found a box that he gingerly opened. His eyes widened at what was inside, and he couldn't help but let out a small gasp.

She had made chocolates that spelt out the letters of his name, and surrounded the centrepiece with smaller chocolates in an assortment of shapes: hearts, stars, books. He could smell the delicious aroma of the treats, and he found a hand hovering over the box, searching for a piece to eat, giving him the time to see the finer details of the chocolates. The books had some indiscriminate letters that served as a title, with small ridges on the side for the pages. The stars had small lines that ran from the corners and converged in the centre, and he could tell by the irregularity of the lines that she had carved them herself. The hearts however, were plain and unadorned, and as he marvelled at the simplicity of those creations, he appreciated the symbolism in the clearly defined shapes.

His hand jerked away as he comprehended that last thought; what kind of melancholic mood was he in, to have seen beauty in the hideous misrepresentation of the human organ? Yet, despite his reservations, he could not help but smile at the girl's gesture. How could there be so much love, so much devotion in one person? He recalled the way she spoke and moved the day before, then glanced down to the card and the chocolates—and he saw the difference but no difference. Perhaps she had presented herself in different ways, perhaps the expression of what was within her was carried out in different ways, but her nature, that amazing, loving nature, was constant.

And somehow, despite how undeserving he was, and for a reason he could not comprehend, he was on the receiving end of that loving nature. Knowing this, and only this, he was only too eager to search for the answer.

* * *

It was a bit past four when he reached the arcade. Mamoru had submitted his assignment without any drama, and had spent a few extra hours in the university's library while considering his options for his next research project. Those few hours spent over textbooks and journals usually excited him, but today was somehow different—today, all he could think about was the little bundle of homemade chocolates that was tucked away in his bag. It was almost a relief to be outside in the cool air, untouched by the winter sun, and he had walked at his usual brisk pace, matching the shuffling of the thousands who found it necessary to be out and about on a Wednesday afternoon.

He entered the arcade in his usual nonchalant manner, and felt a thrill of excitement when he saw the golden odangos in his peripheral vision. The effect of his exercise finally caught up with him, and Mamoru breathed unevenly, suddenly wishing he had something in his hand other than his bag. Any words that he considered saying left him; Mamoru swallowed, and he could only take small steps forward.

She was sitting alone at her usual booth, elbows propped on the table, chin in her hands, her hair messily spilt over her shoulders. The thick woollen material of her winter skirt barely reached mid-thigh, showing a considerable amount of skin before reaching the calves that were covered with her knee-high socks. Although the arcade had sufficient heating, Mamoru wondered if she ever got cold while she travelled to and from school. An image, sharp and crisp, of him warming her up in the seclusion of his apartment, flashed through Mamoru, and he stumbled, an arm grabbing onto a nearby table. The movement caught Usagi's attention, and the surprise on her face was quickly turned into a smile.

"Hello, Mamoru-baka," she said, her eyes glittering, her voice doing things to him that he could not comprehend. Feeling exposed, Mamoru sat down opposite her, his hands clenched tightly under the table.

"Odango, you twit." His own voice, to his relief, betrayed none of his uncertainties. "Show some respect to your seniors."

"I'm afraid you'll have to earn that respect," she said in reply, stumping Mamoru for a moment. But his mind finally decided to work again, and he raised his hand, calling for a waitress.

"A long black, and a chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream for the lady, please."

The girl, a part-timer who had taken Mamoru's orders a few times before, confirmed their order and disappeared. When he looked back at Usagi, he wasn't sure what to make of her open mouth and her large eyes; instead, Mamoru said the only that came to mind.

"Would that be considered enough, or does the attainment of your respect require further actions?" As soon as the words left Mamoru's mouth, he resented having spoken so quickly. He was frustrated with himself, with being so unable to decipher Usagi, that he was now taking it out on the girl. What might have been the beginning of a joyful expression turned to one of hurt—for a moment, it seemed that Usagi was about to blurt out something to continue these verbal arguments that they were so accustomed to, but she drew back at the last minute and simply closed her mouth and looked down.

The vulnerability tugged at Mamoru, but he refused to give in. They sat together for the next few minutes, neither willing to speak. The silence was momentarily broken by the waitress returning with their drinks, and even then, they simply nodded and mumbled words of thanks.

Mamoru had hoped the milkshake would appease Usagi and place them in a temporary ceasefire, and realised too late that he had completely misjudged Usagi's character. Her gaze was steadily fixed on the drink, her fingers wrapped around the straw, swirling the contents, but her actions were purely out of politeness. Perhaps she wasn't so much unlike him after all; the thought of his own beverage had lost its appeal.

Spurred by the direction of his thoughts, Mamoru spoke again, the words escaping him as quickly as they had earlier. "I thought it would be an appropriate return of your gift." Perhaps the lack of warmth and gratitude in his voice was due to the numerous times he had rehearsed a similar line in his mind; nonetheless, Mamoru silently cursed himself for how formal and distant he sounded.

Understanding flashed across Usagi's eyes, but she still managed to smile, perhaps out of courtesy. Her attempt punished him more than any self-chiding, and unable to forgive himself for his own inadequacy, Mamoru lashed out again.

"So are you getting presents from your parents this year?" he asked, his voice mocking. She hid her pained reaction well, but there was no more fire in her response.

"I am," she said simply, politely, knowing there was nothing else she had to say, that he would pick at her regardless.

"Don't tell me you still believe in Santa," Mamoru said. He knew his last insult was frightfully close to a sneer, but her meek responses clawed at him, and he tried to drive her into a more familiar reaction. "And how old are you, Odango? Ten? Most kids stop believing in Santa when they hit twelve, you know. Gee, I almost feel sorry for your parents, having to prepare a gift for you every year just because their daughter can't grow up."

He had hit an all time low by extending his insults to her family, but the sight of the girl trembling against her tears snapped the last thread of his control. Mamoru knew today may be the most regretful encounter he had had with Usagi throughout their acquaintance, but the most primitive and instinctive part of his brain had taken over now, and he was powerless to stop his words.

"Well, I'm glad I finally realised how much of a selfish brat you are. We've never exchanged a kind word, and yet you had the audacity to look up my address and drop something all 'festive' under the pretence of actually caring. Why don't you just cut to the chase and tell me exactly what you want from me? Jewellery? Perfume? A Louis Vuitton handbag? How many other boys and men have you bestowed your 'gifts' upon? How many do you expect to return with the designer goods that you teenagers lust after these days?"

What he implied was ludicrous, and still she did not defend herself. The brief break in his string of accusations was met with silence, and in what seemed like an act of defiance, Mamoru's mind flashed back to the image of Usagi with the beggar, to the twisting feeling in his heart as he observed their exchange. That brought another thought to the surface, and Mamoru continued to speak again, his better judgement already smothered by the raging heat within him; perhaps it was madness.

"I can't stand superficial, ignorant people like you. You prance around in your short skirts and say the words 'Merry Christmas' without knowing its meaning. Christmas, Christmas, what is it, other than a foreign concept of which you have no comprehension? In case you haven't noticed, there _is_ no Christmas in Japan. We put out pretty lights and eat strawberry shortcake and extract presents from our so-called friends, but that's about it. Oh, and of course, the mindless fools of your generation goes around with your parents' hard-earned money and splurge on unnecessary purchases without any conscience. Open your eyes, Usagi. Christmas is a commodity, an opportunity for all the enterprises to exploit your materialistic needs. Do you even know what Christmas is supposed to stand for?"

Mamoru knew the type of answer she would provide, but he had expected the words to be a determined declaration instead of her quiet murmur. "It's a time for you to be with your family and friends, and to spread happiness and joy and love to the world."

Mamoru laughed, and hated himself for it. "You're more naïve than I had given you credit for. This glorious, love-filled day of 'Christmas' apparently marks the birth of Jesus Christ—that is, if he existed at all." He paused, and shook his head, his hands still tightly curled into fists that pressed into his thighs. His heart ached at how he had, once again, been the reason behind her watery eyes and trembling lips. But he could not retrieve them back again, and could only rise to his feet, his indifferent expression betraying none of his inner turmoil. "I see that we're wasting both of our time here," he said, picking up his bag. "I shall leave you to the strenuous task of spreading around all your happiness and joy and love, Odango. I was hoping you would add some intelligence and common sense to that, but it seems like you need every last drop for yourself."

And with that, Mamoru left the arcade, leaving Usagi with their beverages, untouched.

* * *

As Mamoru blindly passed through the brightly lit shopping displays, his resolve and justifications for his behaviour gradually began to crumble. Despite all the reasons he silently went through—the girl deserved to know the truth, he was simply saving her from her obvious disillusions, he was always one to be honest with his feelings—Mamoru could not eliminate the twisted feeling in his chest, the one that prompted him to stop on several occasions and check his pulse just in case something was wrong internally. But his heartbeat, albeit somewhat erratic, was within the normal range, and the ache was not caused by anything within his medical knowledge. With every step he took, every preoccupied shopper he brushed against, Mamoru came closer to the conclusion that _he_ was the one who was being unreasonable, who had verbally attacked Usagi in a way that she did not deserve.

Yet Mamoru clung to his stubbornness, to his rationalisations. How could he have been expected to know what the girl had wanted, after she had given him a present? Was it wrong of him to have been cautious and assume the worst? And all the various insults, no matter how personal they might have seemed, were presented in the most objective and logical way, were they not? He mentally ticked off the list in his head: children only received presents from their parents when they believed in Santa Claus, and Usagi's fifteen years were beyond such whimsies; the etiquette of gift-giving made it necessary for Mamoru to return her present, and as an older male, he was expected to purchase something of far greater value; her impression of the meaning behind Christmas was severely flawed, and he had only informed her of the realities. But for every righteous perspective he found, Mamoru discovered ten others that told him, plain as day, that the insults had not only been personal, but they attacked Usagi at the core of her being.

No, it was all unintentional. He could not have possibly attempted to crush the girl's spirit with his callous words. As if to prove his point, Mamoru surveyed the scene before him for the first time. He had ended up in one of the nearby shopping complexes that housed massive department stores and countless shops. Although the outside temperature was just a bit above freezing point, the building was equipped with air-conditioners that blasted the heat to match a warm spring afternoon. The people bustled around him, leaving brand stores with armfuls of bags. Signboards of advertisements detailing the seasonal incentives were an attraction in itself, where they ranged from information on the limited edition Christmas products to the discounts that were barely substantial. One look at the crowd showed no sign that the world was amidst an economic crisis; Christmas was only successful in displaying, as Mamoru had said, the heights of consumerism.

A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly eight, and his body was correct in signalling him for his dinner. He had wasted the last three hours lost in his thoughts, but there was no time for regrets. Sighing, he escaped from the mall and headed for the nearby convenience store. He opted for a modest _obentou_ box with rice and fish, and paid for it with some loose change in his pocket.

As Mamoru walked through the streets leading back to his apartment, small plastic bag in hand, he saw the lines that extended from the restaurants in the area. He tensed at the sight, and walked past the young couples with a shake of his head—how cruel it must be, for all the single women of the world tonight. His mind drifted to Usagi, and he wondered whether she was spending the night with a boy. The jealousy filled him in an instant—angry at his reaction, Mamoru pushed his feelings back down.

So lost in his own internal arguments, Mamoru didn't realise he had company until a shadow passed before him. He looked up, startled, and then narrowed his eyes as he recognised the beggar who had spoken with Usagi the day before.

"Good evening," the man said politely with a slight bow. Although his clothes were tattered and dirty, the man smelled of soap. His demeanour and tone were somehow different to Mamoru's previous observations, but the slight changes could have been imagined.

"Good evening," Mamoru bowed in response. He waited patiently for the man to step aside, but the beggar did not move. Mamoru quietly took a deep breath, shifting his weight to a defensive stance.

"How are you doing today?" The man's voice was definitely different—his Japanese, although informal, was casual and friendly instead of rough and dirty.

"I am doing well," Mamoru replied. Although the man seemed harmless, it didn't mean he wasn't a potential threat. "I shall be taking my leave now. Have a good evening."

"Off to visit a certain pretty lady on this clear and beautiful night, I would hope."

The words stopped Mamoru, and he turned to see the knowing look in the man's eyes. "Who are you?"

"A man who has seen better times," the beggar replied, a smile on his lips. "But such details are not important—what I'm interested in, however, is your acquaintance with a certain pretty lady."

"You'll have nothing to do with her."

The man laughed at Mamoru's response. The sound might have once been warm and inviting, but Mamoru could only feel uneasy.

"You're a very protective one, aren't you?" the beggar continued, clearly amused. "Which makes me wonder, yet again, why you're not with the pretty lady, tonight of all nights."

Mamoru snapped, agitated. "Tonight is the same every other night of the year," he said, pointing at the sky. "The same sky, the same stars, the same moon. There is nothing special."

"Ah, but there is. Can't you feel it, the glorious something in the air? The time of the year when the good side of the human race emerges and leaves us to be nothing short of generous and giving?"

"Absolutely not." Mamoru shook his head. "Christmas is not even a Japanese holiday, it's—"

"Yet another influence from the West," the man replied. "But do the origins really matter? Haven't you looked around today, and seen how happy everyone is? The smiles, the laughter, the goodwill so strong, you can almost taste it in the air. Are you really one to complain about meaning and purpose when you are surrounded by so much joy?"

The last thing Mamoru wanted was to subject himself to the stranger's inconsequential ranting. "I'm wasting my time here."

"I feel as if I'm the one who should be saying that," the man said, his voice suddenly harsh. "You think you're so superior simply because you have a roof over your head and eat three meals everyday. And that impatience, that elitist need to go and do something that's 'worth your time'—you must attend a private university, am I right? Perhaps you even think you're studying something worthwhile and helpful to the community like medicine."

Stunned by the scolding and the accuracy of the man's observations, Mamoru could only blink. His expression must have proved to be highly amusing, as the beggar started to laugh again.

"So, you're not as mysterious and unpredictable as you hoped to be. A medical student, then. Somewhere relatively nearby…Keio?" Mamoru nodded once in confirmation, eliciting another grin from the man. "Have you thought about a specialty?"

"Cardiothoracic surgery," was the quick reply.

"A heart doctor," the man said, smiling in approval. "You are certainly an ambitious and dedicated young man. I graduated from Keio, too, many years ago. Could've chosen a more useful major, perhaps, but I can't say I regret making my decisions."

"You studied at Keio?" The surprise on Mamoru's face was evident. What was a graduate from such a prestigious private university doing out in the streets?

"Philosophy and literature," the man replied, as if he expected Mamoru's questions. "I worked as a company man for almost three decades, and was rewarded for my hard work by being laid off earlier this year. Nobody wants an old man for a part-timer, so I've been jobless since then."

Mamoru felt a great deal of respect for the man, who had obviously come to accept his situation and had tried to deal with it as best as he could. But one question was still left unanswered. "Yesterday, with the lady…"

"Sometimes it's interesting, pretending to be less fortunate and gauging the reaction of others. The pretty lady wasn't too fazed though, bless her soul, and I didn't have the heart to reveal my background. After all, it's a lot easier to accept that the homeless come from the unfortunate and uneducated than those who fell from circumstances that match your own."

Recollections of his earlier conversation with Usagi tugged at Mamoru, and he was acutely aware of the different choices that could be made when one was confronted with the option of telling the truth. The beggar had decided to protect the girl from the harshness of the reality, while Mamoru had used his own experiences as a weapon against the girl. Although he wasn't sure who was correct in their actions, Mamoru was certain that the beggar held no remorse for choosing to conceal a lie.

"I was hoping to see the pretty lady again today," the man continued, "but she didn't show up. Would you do me the favour of delivering a little something to her?" He withdrew a wrapped package from his pocket and handed it to Mamoru.

"I'm not sure whether I'm the best person for the job," Mamoru said, eying the package. He hadn't quite figured out exactly what he should do about his predicament with Usagi, and the last thing he wanted to do was venture into even more dangerous territory.

"Even one as arrogant and stubborn as you will do." The man took Mamoru's hand, and placed the gift into his palm. "It's the sentiment contained inside that really matters."

Mamoru's hand closed over the package, though he wondered whether he had made the right choice. Remembering the mocking tone he had used with Usagi after he purchased the milkshake that was a flimsy excuse of a present, Mamoru felt his own value crumble—someone who had only been briefly acquainted with Usagi was showing more courtesy.

"Well, I'd better leave you to your important work," the man said. Mamoru found it ironic that the dismissal hurt—only moments ago, he was using that excuse to take his leave. Feeling uncomfortable and very guilty, Mamoru raised the arm that carried his _obentou_ meal.

"Have you had dinner?"

The beggar frowned, giving Mamoru a look that bordered on hostility. "The last thing I need is your pity. What you give, you must give freely and not out of obligation."

Mamoru thought the man was being unreasonable, but he softened his tone. "Aren't you hungry?"

"It's not our bodies that have been deprived of their needs—it's our hearts. You, me, the billions of people living in this world. For all your aspirations to become a cardiothoracic surgeon, you have failed to see something so simple and basic."

"And what is that?"

The man glared at Mamoru, though they both knew Mamoru was only being sincere. "Perhaps it's best that you're not with the pretty lady. Her devotion to you would be endless, but you have not yet learned to love."

Mamoru stared, dumbstruck, as the homeless man bowed and left. Their unexpected conversation had given rise to countless questions Mamoru now wanted to ask. But the man clearly wanted nothing more to do with him, and Mamoru could only look at the figure retreating into the shadows. Somewhere nearby, a group of girls were singing Christmas carols. A couple walked past him, their hands entwined, their voices full of laughter. Stirred by the movement, Mamoru followed them in the direction of his apartment, realising, not for the first time, that he was completely alone.

* * *

AN: Please review. :)


	2. Part 2

**Hope for the Heart**

As promised, here's the second and final instalment of my Christmas/New Year story this/last year! Sorry it's a bit late--I was too distracted by the good food, wine, and music last night. Needless to say, I had a fantastic New Year's Eve, and I hope you did too! Happy New Year, and may 2009 be full of exciting adventures and discoveries!

Note on the story: I have tried to take a different approach this year by incorporating some of the Japanese traditions and customs that are associated with Christmas and the New Year, and it's as much a glimpse into Japanese society as it is into Mamoru's own heart. Also, as you may have noticed, this story focuses primarily on Mamoru's thoughts and feelings. I have purposely omitted Usagi's side of the story so that what goes on in her mind and life is as much of an enigma to Mamoru as it is to you.

Angel, I know you wanted a one-shot (which probably meant relatively short?) story for Christmas, and I have butchered your wishes to serve my verbose and tardy needs. Regardless, I hope you'll enjoy the second half of your (belated) present, and return the favour by finally making that trip to Sydney. :D

* * *

He waited for her outside the school gates. Just after two in the afternoon, Usagi, surrounded by her friends, skipped out into the school grounds. She twirled around once, twice, and then let out a string of words incomprehensible to Mamoru. Looking at the girls who walked with her, Mamoru recognised the quiet Ami and the tomboyish Makoto who, despite having attended Juuban Middle School for almost a year, still wore the brown and white uniform of her old school. Both her friends were smiling, and Makoto said something that elicited a laugh from Usagi. Mamoru's heart sped up at the sound, and his grip tightened on the package he had been holding onto for the past hour. A group of girls glanced his way and giggled among themselves as they passed him, and Mamoru felt a pool of uneasiness well in his stomach. He could see himself from an objective perspective as a voyeur of sorts, taking so many glimpses into the private aspects of Usagi's life during the last few days. He almost turned to walk away right then, but Usagi had caught sight of him, her own expression suddenly grim. Her friends noticed the change in her mood, and their gaze followed hers until they, too, noticed him. Mamoru swallowed and started making his way towards them, their encounter now inevitable.

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said with a bow when they were about a metre away.

"Good afternoon, Mamoru-san," they greeted him in unison. The silence that followed made Mamoru question, yet again, his decision to visit her—at her school no less—and he could see from her fidgeting that she was clearly uncomfortable with his presence.

It was Ami, of all people, who spoke first. "Usagi-chan, we'll be heading off now. Don't forget to be at the shrine by four." The usually shy girl gave Mamoru another bow, and gestured towards Makoto. The taller girl, for some reason, was hesitant to leave; only when Usagi gave her a small nod did Makoto resign and move to join Ami, though not before shooting Mamoru a scathing look. Mamoru gulped; the message was clear—whatever further distress Mamoru was to cause Usagi, her friends would happily inflict back on him in full.

When Usagi's friends had disappeared from their sight, Mamoru turned to the girl, his well-rehearsed apology at the tip of his tongue.

She spoke before he had a chance to open his mouth. "I didn't think you would show up in person and continue your lecture about changing my shallow ways, but here you are."

He hadn't thought Usagi capable of making such a remark, but then again, two days earlier, he wouldn't have believed himself possible of insulting the girl to such extremes. He deserved her suspicion and the polite distance she was keeping, but it still hurt.

"Usagi, I—"

"You know what," she interrupted, "just forget it. I don't want to hear it. Congratulations, you've won the ultimate jerk award for 2008." Her voice was shaky with tears, but she still managed to give him a nod, and say, "Have a good Christmas, Mamoru-san."

"Wait," he said, when she had half turned away. His urgent tone stopped her and he lowered his voice, though it wasn't any less sincere. "Please, Usagi, just hear me out for a minute." He wondered what kind of impression he was giving her, his body tense, his eyes silently pleading, and was relieved when something in her expression softened. When she looked at him again, Mamoru saw a mixture of resignation and defiance that took his breath away.

"Let's go take a walk then," Usagi said, trying to keep her tone light. "I was lucky enough not to get detention today and I don't want to waste it hanging around school!"

He nodded, and they both turned towards the school gates. Although Mamoru appreciated Usagi's consideration, he felt strangely nervous at their proximity as they walked side by side. Remembering the small package he was clutching—that was, after all, the primary reason for this confrontation—Mamoru stopped in his tracks and gave it to the girl.

"One of your friends wanted me to pass this to you," Mamoru said, trying to ignore the disappointment that followed her initial surprise. Had she thought it was a gift from him? Not wanting to cause any more misunderstandings, he added, "I didn't catch his name, but I know the two of you have been acquainted."

She thanked him and took the package from him. To his surprise, she tucked it away into her bag; he had expected the girl to open her present in excitement. Was she being so restrained because of his harsh words from the day before? Or did she simply want to savour the unwrapping and the discovery of the contents in private, away from his prying eyes? As Mamoru pondered the possibilities, Usagi walked on, leaving him no choice but to follow.

They had long left the school grounds and were making their way through some of the quieter streets of Azabu Juuban. All too aware of the unresolved animosity between them, Mamoru stopped once more, this time speaking in a soft voice.

"I know these words will probably mean very little to you, but I am really very sorry for what I said yesterday." He paused and looked into those piercing blue eyes that were so intensely focused on him. "It was wrong of me, to have made so many unfair accusations. I know that our opinions about a great deal of things may be very different, but that gave me no right to dismiss yours. Please, Usagi, I hope you will accept my apology."

His breathing had become uneven, and he was overwhelmed with dread as he waited for her response. Mamoru had never been one to openly admit his mistakes, and now that he had, in the most heartfelt manner, he was afraid that Usagi would continue to shun him, regardless of his attempt.

But then, he had made the mistake of forgetting that the Usagi standing before him was the same person who approached a homeless stranger and offered him every last yen in her purse, the same person who had given Mamoru the only thoughtful present he had received for as long as he could remember. And that Usagi placed her hands on his, her skin surprisingly cold. Startled, Mamoru searched her eyes, only to find that they were shining with tears.

"It's okay, Mamoru-san," she said, trembling. "You gave me quite a bit to think about, to learn about."

Here she was, thanking him when he was the one who had so ruthlessly stamped all over her heart. "No, you didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of my bitter ranting." The guilt welled in him again, and Mamoru enclosed her hands with his own, trying to give her what little warmth he could. "You are an amazing person, Usagi. I only wish I could hope and feel and love as you do, but…" He released her hands and looked away, knowing he had already said too much. "I'm the one who should be learning from you. I know I've made you feel otherwise, and for that, I'm truly sorry."

He had apologised, had said more than he intended, but for some reason, he didn't want to leave. And somehow, the small girl he had underestimated several times before seemed to sense this, and reached out to him again.

"Everyone can hope, and feel, and love. It's really not that difficult. The most important thing is to try your best, and keep trying, even if you fail."

"I've failed so many times that I don't want to try anymore." His admission surprised them both, and he shook his head. Some part of him wanted to tell her more, wanted to reveal his past to her, whether for forgiveness or understanding, he did not know. But the thought of sharing such a secret with her was incomprehensible, and Mamoru could only back away. "I really should go, Usagi. I'm sorry."

Her concerned expression betrayed her feelings, but he had no idea what she was thinking. She tried to smile, and though it was tinged with sadness, the small curling of her lips made him ache in the most beautiful, exquisite way.

"Will I be seeing you before next year?"

"I don't know," Mamoru replied honestly. He wasn't sure how much more of these encounters he could take. "I have quite a bit of work to do."

She nodded, giving him a look that was almost remorseful. A thought seemed to strike her then, and Usagi asked, "Mamoru-san, do you celebrate the New Year?"

He considered her for a long moment, weighing his options. He wanted to tell her how the New Year was just another arbitrary date set by mankind to attach meaning to their lives, but something stopped him. Usagi was not interested in the sociocultural developments underlying a particular holiday; she only wanted to know what it personally meant to him. Last time he had reprimanded her when she was simply trying to share the Christmas spirit; this time, however painful, it was only fair for him to give her the truth. "I would do more than just celebrate it, if I had a family to share it with."

And with that, he walked away, leaving them both wondering about the implications of what he had just said.

* * *

The next few days passed without too much incident. As the shops and schools around him closed to prepare for the upcoming _oshougatsu_—the New Year—the most important holiday of the year, Mamoru put aside his feelings and poured his energy into researching and writing a proposal for his independent project next year. He wanted to focus on the causes behind the irregularities of pulmonary circulation, the blood flow between the heart and lungs where the exchange of oxygen occurred. The topic was a relatively popular one, and Mamoru spent his time looking for a way to approach the project from a fresh perspective. With all his efforts spent on his work, Mamoru gave himself no room to think about what had transpired between Usagi and himself.

He was flipping through an article detailing the causes and effects of amniotic fluid embolism and was starting to see the something different that he could use for his project, when he heard the unfamiliar sound of the doorbell ring. For all the years he had lived in his apartment, he never had an unannounced visitor waiting outside his door—the few people who were invited on the rare occasions always announced themselves through the intercom on the exterior of his apartment building. He rose to his feet and made his way to the door—perhaps it was one of his neighbours.

The last person he expected to see when he opened the door was Usagi, dressed in her winter school uniform, her cheeks flushed from her walk.

"Odango? What are you doing here?"

She looked as nervous and uncertain as he felt, but that didn't keep her from saying the polite phrase the Japanese used whenever they visited another's home. "Please excuse me for intruding." Her voice was soft, and Mamoru could hear the tremors. Not knowing what else to do, he gestured for Usagi to enter.

"Please, come in."

She gave him a brief smile, then quietly stepped inside, removing her shoes at the entrance. As Mamoru watched her fumble with the clasps, the reality of the situation finally dawned upon him: Usagi, the one person he had tried to avoid both physically and mentally for the past week, was right here, in the privacy of his own apartment. He suddenly felt embarrassed and shy, not knowing what she would think of his home, and quickly led her to the living room.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked when she had seated herself on the only couch in the room. She had tried to keep her eyes on him, but Mamoru noticed the drifting gaze as the girl took in her surroundings.

"Thank you, but no." The rejection, however small, made Mamoru even more uneasy. He should have been glad that she was polite enough to say no—after all, he wasn't sure whether he had any teacups fit for his guests—but the clenching of his heart told him otherwise.

Usagi, ever more perceptive by the minute, sensed his hurt immediately. "I actually have to go very soon," she said quickly, "but I wanted to drop by first." From her expression, Mamoru realised that she had something important to say, and though her pause made it difficult for him to breathe, he waited patiently for her to continue. "I know we both said some nasty things to each other last week, and I'm hoping we can have a fresh start. I've already asked my parents, and we're having _osechi_ tonight, so if you're not too busy…"

She trailed off without explicitly forming her invitation. But Mamoru had understood well enough, and his silence was more due to his spinning mind as he realised the significance of her words. He could see why Usagi would want to put the unpleasant things behind them as the year drew to a close, but this was more than just a friendly request. _Oshougatsu_ was the most important celebration not simply because it marks the New Year, but because it was to be spent with one's family, the heart of one's life. And the _osechi_, the traditional Japanese food that was prepared for and consumed only during the New Year period, was what would bring the families together, year after year, through laughter and tears. Mamoru could not remember having proper _osechi_ for the twelve years after his accident and had never expected to do more than buy a processed, packaged imitation from the local convenience store, but here was Usagi, asking him to join her family, her heart.

His silence must have dragged on for longer than he had thought, for Usagi let out an unnatural laugh, her lips strained into a smile. "I'm really a baka, to think that you wouldn't have anything better to do on New Year's Eve! I'm sorry for barging in like that, Mamoru-san—"

"I would be honoured to join you and your family, if you would have me." Mamoru could see now, only too clearly, how he could not afford to allow any more doubt to enter Usagi's heart. She was infinitely more beautiful and giving that he had given her credit for, and Mamoru resolved to pay back her kindness in every way he knew. "And if you have some time to spare as well, I would like to take you somewhere, too."

She was surprised by this, but the girl hid her emotions well. "Dinner starts at seven," she said, and glanced at her watch. It was almost four—plenty of time, for what he had in mind.

As they made their way to the entrance where they put on their shoes, Mamoru felt the silent question linger between them. He knew Usagi was curious as to where they were going, but she was too polite to ask. The realisation warmed him, even as his next words coated another layer of ice around his bruised heart.

"I'm going to take you to my family."

* * *

Their graves were as clean as he had left them a few weeks ago. The flowers, however, had been taken away by the caretaker—Mamoru placed the fresh lilies gently against the gravestone, and closed his eyes to send a silent prayer. He felt Usagi do the same beside him, and this gesture, more than anything else, freed the tears that had wanted to spill for the last hour. But he remained quiet and dignified, and poured his love wholeheartedly to the only family he had.

When he was finished, Mamoru wordlessly got up to his feet and headed to the direction of his car. Usagi followed him, giving him the distance she knew he needed. If she had seen the telltale trails on his face, she didn't show it, and the only sound she made was a quiet murmur of thanks when he opened the door to his car for her.

The drive to the Tsukino residence was in silence. Putting on some music would belittle his sentiments and do nothing to lift the heavy atmosphere, and to his relief, Mamoru found that Usagi was more than understanding. Night had fallen by the time he parked outside Usagi's house, and though Mamoru turned off the engine, neither made a move to leave the car. Even from the outside Mamoru could see the happiness from the brightly lit house, and knew that Usagi's home had no room for his sorrow. He leaned back on his seat, and started to speak.

"My parents died when I was eight." His voice wavered as he spoke of his past for the first time in twelve years. "We went driving somewhere. I don't know where we were supposed to go. We were hit by another driver—I was told that he was speeding. Father lost control of the car, and we tumbled off the road, down a small cliff. Father died instantly; mother could have been saved, but her condition was worsening by the minute and the doctors couldn't act quickly enough to save her brain, so they gave up. I had severe head injuries and lost my memory. They told me my name, my date of birth, but those facts meant little to me. I was raised in an orphanage, and didn't go to school until the last of my elementary years. I worked hard during middle school and high school, and passed the exams for med school. I wanted to be a doctor, a surgeon, and save mothers and fathers, daughters and sons."

He expected to see pity and horror on her face, but her expression was one of terrible sadness that matched his own. Then, through her watery eyes, Usagi smiled, and said, "You will be a brilliant doctor, Mamoru-san."

And there it was, that special something about her. His background and circumstances, though she cared about and emphasised with, meant nothing to her—all that mattered to the bright-eyed angel was the present, and more importantly, the future. She had her secrets and her enigmas, but of this much, he was sure: for some inexplicable reason, she wanted him to be a part of that beautiful future.

He returned her smile, a sincere movement that reached his eyes, and said, "Shall we go in?"

* * *

From the instant Usagi's mother greeted him, Mamoru saw the resemblance. Mrs Tsukino introduced herself as Ikuko, and warm-heartedly showed Mamoru to the living room. Usagi's father, on the hand, was less cordial about Mamoru's presence—Mamoru had a feeling that Mr Tsukino had been talked into having Mamoru over for _osechi_ by the two ladies of the household. Usagi's brother was a different matter entirely. Although Mamoru had heard countless stories about Shingo, all of Usagi's attempts had not managed to capture the cheeky curiosity that was plastered over the boy's features. Mamoru knew before the boy had spoken that he was going to be a handful.

"Are you dating my baka-sister?" was the first question Shingo asked. Usagi turned bright red, and was about to release a string of who-knows-what when Mamoru intervened.

"Little boys should not ask grown-up questions," Mamoru said mildly, causing Usagi to look at him in surprise, and Shingo to narrow his eyes in suspicion.

"I'm not a little boy," Usagi's brother said, though he was a good head shorter than his sister. "I'm going to be twelve next year, you know. Besides, you're probably ancient."

"I might be ancient," Mamoru replied, "but I bet I can still beat you in _Tekkan_." Only a few weeks ago Usagi had dashed into the arcade, complaining about how Shingo liked to hog the game. The words seemed to have an instant effect, and Shingo grinned.

"I'm going to kick your ass, mister!"

They went to play their game, and as Mamoru predicted, he beat the boy every round. When Shingo threw up his hands in frustration and defeat, Mamoru could sense the awe from both the boy and his older sister. He chuckled to himself—Mamoru had learnt that in this time and age, respect was earned not by age or status, but by the ability to thrash another in a video game.

"Well, I guess that means you're not as grown-up as you thought," Mamoru said to Shingo, who scrunched up his face.

"Fine, but I beat Usagi-baka all the time," Shingo retorted, "so she's not any more grown-up either!"

Mamoru took a look at the girl, the familiar indignant expression making him grin. "I suppose you're right about that, Shingo-kun."

As Usagi growled at them, the two boys burst into laughter. The sound was so hearty that a smile sneaked its way onto Usagi's features, until she added her silver tinkling to the merriness.

"I'm glad to see you children are having so much fun," Ikuko said from the doorway of the living room. "Shingo-kun, can you please show Mamoru-san to the dining room? Usagi-chan, come help set the table."

As Shingo led Mamoru to the dining room, the boy was clearly still excited from their earlier games, and asked Mamoru to share the secrets of his playing. Smiling at the enthusiasm, Mamoru promised to show Shingo at a later date.

Dinner itself was something Mamoru would remember for the rest of his life. Although he was well-versed in the academic field, he had never seen the assortment of dishes that made up this particular _osechi_ that was served in a special box with several compartments, called the _jubako_. The same Usagi he mocked on a daily basis patiently pointed to all the different foods and explained the significance to Mamoru. Some he was vaguely aware of and had heard about, others he never knew existed. But however familiar Usagi was with the food, she made sure her explanations were elaborate and descriptive, without leaving out a single detail.

"See the _kamaboko_ here?" she would say, pointing to the broiled fish paste that was alternately arranged in slices of red and white. "That's supposed to look like the rising sun of Japan. The red and white is supposed to stand for good luck."

She then pointed to a kind of seaweed that was rather plain, and with which Mamoru was familiar. "That's _konbu_. It's rather ordinary, but it almost sounds like _yorokobu_!" Mamoru's eyes widened in recognition—he had never made the associated between the name of the seaweed and the Japanese word for 'joy'.

"And the _kuromame_," Usagi continued, picking up a black soybean with her chopsticks. "Why don't you guess what that stands for?"

Mamoru thought for a moment. "Because _mame_ also means 'health'?"

The smile she gave him made his heart skip a beat. "Yup! You're really quick!" She popped the soybean into her mouth, and Mamoru followed suit. The taste was unlike anything he had experienced before—it was sweet, but not sickening so, and the soybean practically melted in his mouth. He looked up at Ikuko, once again feeling grateful for her hospitality.

"This is truly amazing, Tsukino-san," he said. The older woman nodded, smiling.

"It is absolutely my pleasure, Mamoru-san."

As the dinner progressed, the members of the Tsukino family recalled an interesting tidbit from work or school that happened throughout the year. They made sure to include Mamoru in their conversations, always giving him the context of the situations they were referring to. Listening to them talk, Mamoru saw how the smallest things, however insignificant they may have seemed, could be thought of as a treasured memory with the right mindset. Little by little, his own heart opened to the loving atmosphere that enveloped him, and when called upon, Mamoru shared some of his own experiences that he considered special in a particular way. His hosts eagerly listened to his recollections and explanations, genuinely interested in what he had to say.

The dinner went on for longer than Mamoru would have thought possible—the food started disappearing at a steady rate, until the intricate decorations on the bottom of each _jubako_ compartment finally revealed themselves. Feeling more satisfied and relaxed than he had in a long time, Mamoru glanced at Usagi, a smile on his lips. To his delight, he found that she was sneaking a look at him at the same time. The girl quickly lowered her gaze at first, but Mamoru's patience was rewarded when she looked up at him again, her smile shy, her eyes the colour of the summer sky. Something passed between them, and in that moment, Mamoru finally understood the reason behind his arrogant baiting in the arcade last week, behind the hour he spent waiting for her to finish school and deliver something with which he had no association, behind the wordless invitation into his own private world, where her foreign yet familiar presence remained with him as he paid his respects to his deceased parents: he wanted more than the sporadic, often unfriendly interactions that made up their relationship. Chiba Mamoru wanted, more than anything in the world, to share this day, and all following days, with the angel who sat next to him.

Ikuko took that moment to leave the table, but that treasured feeling of conviction, of knowing how special and magical his world had become, did not leave him. When Usagi's mother re-entered the room, she brought with her a tray laden with bowls. Mamoru was given the buckwheat noodles, and he waited patiently for Usagi to reveal the symbolism behind the particular dish.

"This is called _toshikoshi soba_," Usagi said. By now they had slipped into the ritual of having Mamoru guess the significance of the name, and they both smiled at his immediate comprehension.

"Year-crossing soba," Mamoru said. "Do they represent longevity in the new year?"

Usagi nodded, clearly pleased with his response. "That's right! The noodles are long, and each strand stands for your energy and health. Plus, you can't go wrong with soba!"

They all laughed and proceeded with their meal. Like the rest of the _osechi_ Mamoru had been served, the _soba_ was homemade, the taste and texture heavenly in his mouth. Mamoru had never been comfortable with the custom of slurping one's noodles in order to show appreciation for the meal, but the cheery sounds that erupted around him made it difficult for him not to join in. All his uneasiness had been soothed throughout the evening, and Mamoru felt truly alive, the warmth filling every last capillary in his body.

He was surprised to learn how quickly the time had passed when Usagi's father stood up after the table was cleared. "It was lovely to have you join us tonight, Mamoru," Kenji said, his tone and smile far more amiable than when they had first met. "My wife and I will now prepare ourselves for _hatsumoude_, so please excuse us for our absence."

"Thank you for your hospitality, and for the lovely meal," Mamoru said in response. However familiar the Tsukinos had been throughout the evening, Mamoru knew he was about to overstay his welcome. "I hope for your favour again in the coming year."

A glance at his watch told him it was nearing midnight, and that 2009 was almost upon them. As Usagi's parents went upstairs to dress in their kimono, Usagi led Mamoru to the entrance of her home.

"Are you going to _hatsumoude_ too?" he asked Usagi, when they left the house and made their way to his car. The start of a new year meant the opportunity to do many things for the first time again, and the Tsukinos were going to make their first shrine visit of the year.

"Mama and papa like to go right after midnight," Usagi said, "but we'll go again as a family tomorrow." They watched as her parents left the house, fully dressed in their traditional kimono, her mother waving to them before they climbed into their car. They drove off, leaving Usagi and Mamoru alone outside. "We also go to _hatsuhinode_ every year, so if you'd like, you can join us."

Mamoru drew in a sharp breath. _Hatsuhinode_, the first sunrise of the year, was often thought of as the most beautiful. He had never cared about seeing one, but for some reason, he suddenly wanted to take up her offer.

"I'd like that, but…"

"I asked mama and she said yes," Usagi replied, answering his unspoken question. "And papa likes you, even though he's never going to admit it."

He appreciated her thoughtfulness, but the uncertainty was still there. "Usagi, I don't want to trespass on your kindness…"

"Remember what I said earlier about trying your best to hope, and feel, and love?" She didn't wait for his response. "What you're doing now, is purposely keeping yourself from succeeding. I think we should leave that nasty habit back in 2008, don't you?"

He smiled, and under the light of the crescent moon, he saw Usagi return the gesture. "Thank you, Usagi, for everything, tonight. It meant more to me than you can possibly imagine." So many people were thinking about the firsts of the year, but Mamoru was marvelling at the many firsts of a lifetime.

"Thank you, too," she said, "for trusting me with the story of your past, with your feelings. It's something I would treasure forever."

Somewhere in the city, a sudden boom sounded, instantly followed by splashes of light that lit parts of the sky, though they could not see the fireworks.

"Happy New Year," he said sincerely, his voice thick with emotion.

"Happy New Year," Usagi replied, and reached to give him a friendly hug. Mamoru closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her soft scent. He wanted more than her friendship, but she deserved more, so much more. But as she reluctantly withdrew from his hold and looked away from him, Mamoru wondered if, in her own way, she had been trying to tell him the same thing, that _she_ wanted more, too. That thought, that small glimmer of hope, decided him.

"Usagi," he said, his voice shaky, "tonight was amazing not simply because of what you have given me, but because it was from you. And if you would allow me, I would like to give you the same wonderful things and feelings."

"I'd like that," she repeated his earlier words. Under the moonlight of the new year, they held each other again; this time, though it was still friendly, they both knew they were sharing something so much more. And when they parted this time, they did not keep their distance. Mamoru tenderly tilted her chin towards him, his heart soaring as their lips met in their first kiss.

The first of many more to come.

* * *

_Finis._


End file.
